Wednesday, January 25, 2012

This is a wonderful book with a
compelling narrative of the recovery, in 1417, of Lucretius' On
the Nature of Things, by an
interesting book collector, Poggio Bracciolini. It
is a story of the early Renaissance, with quarreling popes and
princes and a corrupt clergy, but also with a tremendous enthusiasm
for the late Roman Republic and a zeal for recovering, understanding
and using the things that had made Rome great long ago.

Things
like grammar, architecture, democracy. That classical stuff. Educated
people – and there were a lot of them, because they were needed to
run the vast papal bureaucracy as well as international commerce and
finance – poured over Cicero and other Roman and Greek authors.

This
was a generation before Gutenberg. Books were still incredibly
labor-intensive hand copied affairs. Expensive, cherished. Much of
the classical library had disappeared, neglected and ravaged by time.
Some had been preserved, mostly by monks for whom reading Latin
literature was a daily exercise, and copying texts was a monastic
craft. In the Renaissance, some of those texts made it out of the
monasteries and into the schools and living rooms of the educated
elites. Others remained neglected and unused in the libraries of
remote monasteries. In one of these, Poggio found Lucretius'
masterpiece.

On the Nature of Things
was written in 50 BCE, a year before Caesar crossed the Rubicon, in
the last days of the Republic (a time somewhat like our own in that
big money, with fortunes built on foreign expansion, was undermining
republican institutions at home). Although the ideas it promoted were
not widely accepted, the book was widely admired for the beauty of
its language as well as the intellectually challenging content. It
was praised. Poggio would have read ABOUT De rerum natura,
but
never seen it, because no copy was known to exist until he found one
in some remote monastery in Germany. He returned the book to
circulation and, Greenblatt argues, changed the world.

In
Chapter Eight, in the middle of the book, Greenblatt summarizes some
of the main themes in Lucretius:

Everything
is made of invisible particles.

The
elementary particles of matter...are eternal.

The
elementary particles are infinite in number but limited in shape and
size.

All
particles are in motion in an infinite void.

The
universe has no creator or designer.

Everything
comes into being as a result of a swerve.

The
swerve is the source of free will.

Nature
ceaselessly experiments.

The
universe was not created for or about humans.

Humans
are not unique.

Human
society began not in a Golden Age of tranquility and plenty, but in
a primitive battle for survival.

The
soul dies.

There
is no afterlife.

Death
is nothing to us.

All
organized religions are superstitious delusions.

Religions
are invariably cruel.

There
are no angels, demons, or ghosts.

The
highest goal of human life is the enhancement of pleasure and the
reduction of pain.

The
greatest obstacle to pleasure is not pain; it is delusion.

Understanding
the nature of things generates deep wonder.

That
list, which he elaborates in the chapter, is Greenblatt's summary of
Lucretius' philosophy, which is in turn and expression of the
philosophy of Epicurus, 341-270 BCE. It wasn't widely accepted in
Epicurus' day, in Lucretius' day, or in Poggio's. It's been parodied
and pilloried. And yet, look at that list. Don't you see Galileo in
it? Newton? Darwin? Einstein, Bohr? Jefferson? Jefferson had five
copies of the book, and said he was an Epicurean. This is a modern
view of the world; in fact, except for a few small points (I don't
think elementary particles are infinite in number), it's largely my
view of the nature of things. Going back to the time of Alexander the
Great. Incredible!

Greenblatt
explores these and other imprints of Lucretius' work in the modern
world. But there's one he misses: John Lennon's Imagine
is
a beautiful expression of the Epicurean world view.